Real
by Life's scar
Summary: Dean’s gun dropped to the ground the moment he saw the body sprawled out before him. Her long, dark hair laying in a frizzy mess beneath a face that was barely recognizable.


**Title: **Real  
**Rating: **Pg-13/R  
**Beta: **lastasalways  
**Word Count: **1061  
**Pairing: **Dean/Cassie implied.  
**Disclaimer:** All characters portrayed belong to their respective owners.  
**Summary: **Dean's gun dropped to the ground the moment he saw the body sprawled out before him. Her long, dark hair laying in a frizzy mess beneath a face that was barely recognizable

Dean's gun dropped to the ground the moment he saw the body sprawled out before him. Her long, dark hair laying in a frizzy mess beneath a face that was barely recognizable. Blood covered everything and had long since seeped into what use to be beautiful curls. He felt Sam come up behind him but he jerked away from the hands that were meant to be comforting but only brought a sheering heat to his skin. Anger bubbled deep beneath the shocked sadness that had instantly claimed his heart, threatening to boil over into an uncontrollable rage.

He heard his father protesting behind him, ordering him to stay in the motel room, behind the protective lines of salt but his mind was slowly shutting down, refusing to listen to the words he knew were being said for his own protection. His knees collapsed down beside her head, fingers instantly reaching out in search of a pulse that he knew couldn't possibly be there; denying what he knew was the truth.

Her skin was still soft, still so warm as if there was still life left in her prone body and he willed her chest to rise. Prayed and begged for even the smallest of movement so he could erase the memory of stillness from underneath his fingers where he should have felt a soft beat.

There was nothing; nothing except the uneven sound of his breath as he struggled to keep the plea's deep inside, locked away because if they ever escaped this would all be real. Not something he could mark off as a horrible nightmare. He knew that he should be worried about the lack of sounds around him, knew he should let the hands, that were gripping his shoulder tightly, pull him up.

He couldn't leave her alone though; couldn't leave her out here in the cold night air like this. He should be wrapping his arms around her, holding her so close that there would never be a chance for the cold to invade her body.

He thought she was safe away from him, thought she would be left alone. He couldn't have anyone else in his life; Sam and John were more than enough people for him to worry about. He thought he didn't have to worry about her because she wasn't in this life; it was rare for anyone to be touched by the darkness twice if they weren't looking for it. She was suppose to be safe!

Sam's hands were on his shoulders, attempting to pull him away and whispering loudly that they needed to move now, "leave me alone, Sam!" he barked, shoving his shoulders back in an attempt to knock him away.

He knew that later he would regret the anger in his voice and actions but that was later. He would deal with that then right now he needed to keep her safe, make her whole again. He was lost in the sight of her, lost in the memories of her smiles and the feel of smooth, unmarred skin under his calloused fingers.

He had dreamed about going back to her; of taking her in his arms and never letting her go. Holding her tightly until she playfully bit his neck to get him to loosen up. He dreamed of her in a beautiful white dress, smiling at him and him carrying her into a new home. He had spent so many nights dreaming of having a life with her. He knew it was an impossible dream but that never stopped them… or him actually liking the thought.

"Dean!" it was John's voice now, taking on that demanding tone that had always had Dean jumping to attention. His body refused to obey this time though, just like it refused to acknowledge the scent of sulfur that was growing ever stronger around him, slipping into his nose and through his lungs.

Two pair of hands on him now, yanking him away forcefully, painfully, fingers digging between muscles as he was dragged back through the doorway. A dark laughter was left in his wake, circling her small body.

He struggled against his father's grip, struggled to stand on his own like he had spent his entire life doing. Struggled to get free so he could go back to her despite Sam's freshly poured salt-line, "She's still out there!" Dean hissed, pressing his heals down, pushing backwards, attempting to knock John off balance.

He felt John falling backwards and his struggles grew because this was his only chance to break free; if he fell backwards with his father he would have no leverage. A jerk backwards from John and they were both on their backs on the floor, breath knocked out of each of them but training refused to allow that to stop them. While Dean struggled to turn over so his back wasn't resting on John's chest, John flipped them both over. With his knees on each side3 of Dean's hips, John gripped Dean's wrist tightly and pulled them above Dean's head, careful not to get his face to close to his son's head to spare himself the pain of a broken nose. "She's dead, Dean," his father barked as softly as he could with his son bucking underneath him, trying to dislodge John long enough for him to make it to the door.

"No, she's not!" Dean yelled back, squeezing his eyes shut in an attempt to block out John's words.

His words made it real, made everything begin to slide into focus. He didn't' want real, couldn't take real. This had to be a dream. It couldn't be anything more than that. Just a dream, a nightmare.

"Dean," Sam whispered softly; his voice pulling Dean's eyes open enough so that he could see Sam gently trying to pull their father off of him. 

The pity was so clear in that voice, so pure. "No." was all Dean could manage to mumble as his hands were freed enough for him to roughly shove John off of him.

Both Sam and John, who had yet to pick himself up from the position he had been shoved into, were waiting for Dean to make another mad dash for the door, their muscles tense and eyes locked onto his every movement.

He didn't though; he couldn't, his whole body felt drained, useless.

This was real.

The End

**A/n: **Okay, this idea was from someone in one of the discussions at **Supernaturaltv **but it was at least a month ago so now I don't remember who even though I had full intentions to credit her because she wanted something written where Cassie was killed in revenge against Dean.

Kay  
-1061


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